Fancy
by lovelybloodflow
Summary: "Are you assuming I can't keep up with you?" "Oh, that's sweet, Eli," she smiles at him and fuck, it's not even a kind of smile, she's full blown, genuinely smiling at him. "I know you can't."
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Let's pretend Season 12B never happened, alright? I don't own Degrassi or the song is fic is inspired by, but I'd fuck Iggy Azalea in a minute. Also, this is AU.

* * *

So, he's kind of used to this. She's fucking beautiful and out of reach, and he's sitting on the steps of the porch with a shitty joint hanging out of his mouth. She's slipping off her heels, dancing in the grass with the school's brainless jock, and there's bile rising in his throat. He pinches the rolled paper between his fingers and exhales, hoping the bile is metaphorical, but nope, one cough and all the food he ate past 6 pm is speeding to the ground. Fuck, he messed up, puking in plain sight of Clare god damn Edwards. He looks up, and he knows he's small as shit, because she hasn't even wrinkled her nose in notice of the smell. The dress she's wearing is falling off her shoulders and he's shit.

Now he wipes his mouth, and reaches for the red solo cup on the fence of the porch as he stands up, takes a swig of it to gargle with and spits it on the ground with the rest of his dinner. He takes one more hit before willingly committing the crime of approaching the younger girl dancing without her shoes on. In 6 strides, he's in close proximity with the girl in question, and she's dancing to an irrelevant song with another irrelevant dude and he's fed up with this. "Wanna hit?" He offers the half joint he has to the girl, interrupting her mid-grind. It takes a few seconds before her eyes find the shitty thing he rolled a half hour ago, she smiles, kind of, and takes the joint from his hand. "I have more," he tells her, skin buzzing from the lazy brush of her fingers.

"I bet you do, um, Eli?" She smirks, kind of again, like she's in on this big joke. Maybe Eli's the joke. In all honesty, he knows he probably is, but he doesn't want to believe it. She puts the spliff in her mouth and it takes a minute before the dark haired shit is able to pull out his lighter, her lips look more inviting when he's drunk, it's not his fault. He watches the girl inhale, and fuck, Clare Edwards is so close to him.

"Yeah," he nods, smirking as the girl kills the hit, handing him back the joint. Next thing he knows, the small Edwards is pulling him by his shirt and blowing the smoke into his gaped mouth. Fuck, Eli wants to kiss her, she's so fucking sexy and beautiful, man, he's fucked up and he just wants her. He does when he's sober, and the desire is so easily manipulated. He wants to take her in his arms right now, but he does nothing, this piece of shit literally keeps his hands in his pockets.

"You dance?" Clare motions to him, her eyes cloudier than they were a minute ago, and he's fucking intoxicated. Like, yeah, he's drunk, but there's nothing more inebriating to Eli Goldsworthy than this fucking girl. He nods, dumbly, and she turns so she's not facing him and he's okay with that, because he can't fucking look at those eyes anymore. He's a piece of shit and when the song changes and she moves against him he feels like a polished turd, but it's okay, because Clare Edwards is fucking grinding on him.

"Fuck," he groans, hands sliding from his sides to her hips, and now he's getting into it. Clare turns her head and their faces are too close. She smiles; hand wrapping up and grabbing on to his hair, pulling it and giving him a pleasure he's never fucking known. He doesn't feel special until she locks her eyes with his, because he was watching her all night and she didn't do this with any other dude she danced with. Eli Goldsworthy is getting a completely original Clare dance. He's victorious.

"Do you have anything else I might want?" Fuck, she moving her hands now, and they're sinking into his pockets, and he's losing his mind. She pulls a small bag with a few tokes in it, which he was trying to save but now there's no point, because whatever Clare Edwards wants, she gets. She smirks, turning around to face and pulls two out, one sliding into her bra. A sneaky look appears on her face, "For when you pass out and I'm still up, of course." She holds the toke out for him to light and hits it first. She's fucking gold, god damn it.

"Are you assuming I can't keep up with you?"

"Oh, that's sweet, Eli," she smiles at him and fuck, it's not even a kind of smile, she's full blown, genuinely smiling. "I know you can't."

* * *

They're walking through the neighborhood, it's barely warm, but the girl is walking in heels and a short dress, and he's fucking infatuated. She's high as shit and has a beer in her hand, god, what time is it? How are they getting away with such public inebriation? Eli knows the curly haired girl is plastered, but she's walking fine and there's a slight slur to her words, but it's not even noticeable. One can only notice how fucked up Clare Edwards is by the complete lack of shit that comes out of her mouth. For a few hours, the girl is completely honest. He hardly notices the girl sit on the sidewalk because he's so lost in thought, but Eli follows the light as it flickers out of his sight. Sitting down, he moves himself as close to the little lady, and she grins at him, "I'm not tired or anything, I'm just bored. Do you have a car around here? I want music, but if I go back to the party I'll probably forget about you, and we both know that's not a good thing for you." It stings, but where the fuck does she come off? Eli wants to snap, but her head lulls and falls to his shoulder, and fuck, she smells like sweat and vanilla.

"Yeah," he murmurs, noticing that maybe Clare Edwards always has a little lie up her sleeve. Girls like that can't be trusted, his dad even told him, but he can't seem to break the string that ties him so tightly around her finger. "Get up, Edwards," he laughs, and the girl does, but not before slipping the heels off once more and picking them up with a firm grip.

"Where is it?" Clare has a sneaky sort of look to her, her eyes glistening with promises of mischief. She moves closer to this obsessive piece of shit, her free hand fisting the fabric of his shirt, pulling him to look into her eyes. They're glazed and hazy, fuck, she's high, but Clare Edwards' lips are more intimidating. "Your car, I mean," she smirks, moving her hand to the crotch of Eli's pants, "I already know where your boner is, pal."

Coughing, pushing her hand off him, the boy chokes for a moment before pointing down the street, "The hearse," he gets out, and the girl laughs some sort of evil thing that makes the shit's head spin. Then, before he fucking catches his breathe, the girl has taken off, running to his car, barefooted on the street. "Fuck, Clare!" He shouts, a laugh escaping him along with a labored breath.

"Beat you," she smirks, laughing, "Can we sit in the back?" She moves to the back of the hearse, checking to see if the door was open, and since the shit has the weirdest, shittiest car in existence, the locks don't work and she slips in. He follows, because he's Eli Goldsworthy and this is fucking Clare Edwards. They have English together, and she hardly knows him, but he's been in love with her since he bumped into her smoking a cigarette in the boys' locker room when he was grade 10 and she grade 9. She told him it wasn't a habit, but sometimes they help with cramps. That's not even true, he found out like 7 months later she was dared to skip class and try to set the fire alarms off, so she smoked right under the smoke detector in the locker room. Why she was in boys', he'll never know. He's a year older now and she's in grade 10 and she's smart as shit, Clare Edwards. She's beautiful, smart and a fucking mystery and Eli wants to unravel her. He sits near the back, and the girl moves to turn the radio on, a faster song than the hearse is used to come on.

Her hands run up her sides, weaving in her own hair and moving illegally in front of him. Not illegally, but like fuck, Clare Edwards should not be doing this in front of a shit like him, Eli groans, and she opens her eyes, moving with eye contact now. "I'm kind of horny," she laughs, moving so she's in his lap, "Help me out, Goldsworthy," god damn it, Clare is breathing on his neck, lighting grazing his ear with her lips. Where the fuck did this come from? Also, how the fuck did she know his last name? He's fucking at loss for words and watches as Clare picks up his limp hands and moves them up and down her sides until he regains control of his own limbs, his hands pushing up the fabric of her dress. She looks frustrated when she leans back to look at him, "Either touch me," the younger girl speaks lowly, and fuck, her bright blue eyes are now dark. Her hands weave into his hair pulling his head back so he bumps his head on the back of the car, "Or eat me, Goldsworthy."

That's it, this piece of shit is done being lame as fuck, he grabs her and pulls her off him, pushing her so she's on her back in his hearse, a fucking fantasy in its own. She wiggled a little, pushing her hips up to meet his and he took it as a sign to move Clare's hands above her head, pinning her down. The boy's other hand moved to the neckline of her dress, pulling the fabric to expose the girl's chest. He moved the dress up, jerking her lacey underwear down her legs as best he could with one hand. Ultimately getting frustrated, Eli let go of her hands and moved between her thighs to tear the underwear she donned off. Pulling off his shirt the moment the girl was beneath him, the black haired shit let his hand drift to her core, rubbing her. Her body was warm, radiating a heat just for him and he immediately felt the blood flow redirect itself. The girl writhed as he teased her with his fingers, and he moved his fingers from her completely moved under her dress, so he could trace lines on the girl's stomach, watching her inhale sharply when his finger would move a certain way. Clare was beautiful and he was lightheaded.

Fed up with the barrier between him and the warmth, the boy unbuttoned his jeans and slid further back into the car, pushing the girl's body so she was half sitting. Sliding her dress off and clumsily using his feet to wiggle free of his jeans, Eli moved Clare back so she was comfortably laying on the bed with her legs spread for him, exposing herself. Eli rested his hands on her knees for a moment, taking a moment to wait for a blush to wash over her, but nothing ever came, instead she characteristically rolled her eyes. His fingers started to moved from her knees to the inside of her thighs, and then her core. Clare let out a small moan that made the dumb shit's eyes roll into the back of his head, her body and her sounds erotic without even trying. "Fuck, Clare," he groaned, moving down between her legs, his mouth far from talking now. Clare's hips moved against Eli's fingers and she had to work to resist bucking her hips. Despite her teeth digging into her lips, small moans still managed to escape her mouth. Clare moved her hand to Eli's head and roughly moved her fingers through his black hair.

"God, fuck," she was bucking against his face, eyes closed. One hand was in his hair, the other was on her breast, and maybe he was dead. He was moving his mouth against her bundle of nerves and pumping two fingers in the small girl, and he was pretty sure this was heaven, she was fucking heaven. If he wasn't sure he was already dead, he'd be wishing he could die just like this. "Fuck, don't stop," she gripped his hair harder, "I'm so close, fuck." Curling his fingers inside her and moving his tongue against her, the girl screamed for him, not his name, but that's okay. He was fucking high off her. Clare moved away from him, smiling sleepily. "I'll give you a handjob or something in the morning, okay?" She motioned for him to move next to him, Clare fucking Edwards just came for him and now she's fucking sleeping on his shoulder.

Fuck, this was a weird fucking night, but he's in fucking heaven.

* * *

He wakes up in the morning, she's not there. Neither is the rest of his weed. Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: don't own Degrassi or The Virgin Suicides, or Sum 41, Handguns, Escape the Fate, Pierce the Veil, Foals or Brand New. But if I owned Sum 41, I'd probably make them sing Fat Lip to me on repeat in my dorm.

Also, author's note?: Thought I would put in the songs I used to inspire this chapter? I guess. This is going to be a chaptered fic, but as a college kid I can't really promise timed updates. I'm going to try my hardest to get a chapter up every 2 weeks or, to be honest, when I get reviews. I'll post the 3rd chapter in about a week's time, or whenever I hit 30 reviews on this fic. I really want to know your feedback on this and it encourages me to write faster. I also thought I'd include a little playlist that inspired me throughout this chapter.

SONGS:

Brain by Banks / Au Revior by The Front Bottoms / Skeleton by The Front Bottoms / Arrows by Fireworks / Song for an Actress by Hoodie Allen / Waiting All Night by Rudimental / Nevermind by Foster the People / Your Flesh Against Mine by Dillion / Dead Oaks by Now, Now / Ways to Phrase a Rejection by Drowners / Habits by Tove Lo / Kill Of The Night by Gin Wigmore

* * *

He kind of hates her? It's a weird feeling that bubbles in his chest when he sees her at her locker with a bunch of dudes and like two girls near her. She flips her hair and fuck, he hates that he doesn't even want an apology, but he would forgive her if she just made fucking eye contact with him. His headphones are so loud his ears hurt, but he kind of hopes he'll go deaf and he doesn't know why. Eli Goldsworthy doesn't understand anything, really. This weekend he went down on Clare god damn Edwards and she left him without any goodbye. She also stole all his fucking weed.

He's fucking tired, but he finds he locker. He remembers the beginning of the year when he used to smoke a blunt on the way to school with Adam and forget where the fuck his locker was and the combination, but then Adam's mom kind of found out the two were late to first period almost every day and made his buddy drive with that dickweed Drew. He was dancing with Clare on Saturday, so that's kind of why he's a dickweed, but also because he's a joke and Eli Goldsworthy is kind of programmed to hate him. Just like you're kind of programmed to be afraid or hate things that oppose what you know. Funnily enough, Clare should fall into that category, but every rule has its exception.

Eli should feel startled when a hand lands on his shoulder, but he wants to play it cool in case it's Clare, so he turns around kind of slowly. He's so lucky it's the Torres he knows so well, because that was lame as shit and now Adam's got an eyebrow cocked like, 'What happened?'

"What man?" He's agitated, but it's not the younger kid's fault.

"Touchy, what happened on Saturday? Sorry I bailed, but Drew gave me 50 bucks to cover for him at home, and I really want to save up for that Fireworks vinyl," Adam is waiting for the fuckface to grab his books, leaning against the locker next to him. He's a good friend, and sometimes Eli forgets that.

"Not much, I just puked and shit. I also went down on Clare Edwards and she stole all my weed," his voice is all level and shit so it almost sounds nonchalant.

"Shit. What the fuck, dude? Do you want me to talk to her?" Oh, that's right, Adam knows Clare. Like, knows her, and like, hangs out with her? That's fucking messed up, shit he shouldn't of told him. Or, maybe this is a good thing? They sit down in their desks in the back of class,

"No, fuck, dude. Maybe ask to her to get coffee at The Dot or something and then I'll be there? Fuck, maybe that's lame," he pinches the bridge of his nose, because he's a fucking cliché, one night stand but all the negative connotation is on him. At least Clare Edwards got an orgasm out of it. But, fuck, she tasted good and he can't complain because how many times did he fucking jerk it thinking about her? A lot. Yeah, he's messed up, but no one can judge him harder than himself right now.

He has one headphone in and Adam is still talking and he's pissed, okay? Sum 41 makes him feel even shittier. He looks over to the kid, and he's still talking, coming up with plans far better than the shit that just came out his mouth. Eli pulls out his iPhone and pauses Skumfuck, feeling like scum, fuck.

"Dude, it's whatever, do whatever," this is Eli Goldsworthy giving the fuck up. He knows he's lame as shit, okay, Clare Edwards? Adam looks scheming and this piece of shit should be worried but he has nothing in him right now. Well, he means, if something unfolded and the girl made good of her promise this weekend, he'd have something in him. That was a bad cum joke, man, he's fucking slipping.

* * *

So it's lunch and Adam is buying food and telling Eli to get a table outside before any fucking freshman get it, so the shit puts on his scowl and walks outside, trying to scare off any people scouting for picnic tables. Finding one, he slams his bagged lunch down, and takes his pen out from his pocket. He wants to doodle but right when he looks around for Adam, he spots her. Yeah, her. Fucking Clare Edwards is sitting by herself semi adjacent to him, with a pen in her mouth and a psych book in her lap. She moves her legs, god damn it, she's wearing a skirt and her legs are so fucking long. He watches her intently, Clare Edwards pulling the pen from her mouth and … French inhaling? Oh fuck, the girl is smoking hookah and studying outside and he's fucking entranced. He should be angry, but she's so fucking cool it's hard, and no, he's not just talking about his dick.

She looks up, brushing curls from her face, putting her hookah pen back into her mouth, and fuck, Eli's jealous, okay? The girl kind of once offered to put his dick in her hands or in her mouth, and he wants to be that pen. He wants to be the smoke, fuck, that's it. He wants to coexist with her air and then fade away. The scum knows he's pathetic, okay? But, Clare Edwards looks at him, exhaling him, and she smiles. It's a kind of smile, but her features are bright, alluring, so when she waves him over, of course he walks over.

"I have to do a psych evaluation, do you mind?" She offers the seat across from her, and Eli wonders for a minute why the pale angel sits alone. Fuck, he's a shitty human being; he can't even look at her with anything but pure adoration. The girl clearly played a game with him this weekend but he can't stop thinking of her like some sort of high school goddess, the stereotypical girl of his dreams that he would write a beautiful letter for confessing the love he has had for her this whole movie and his entire high school career. He just made a Can't Hardly Wait reference, so deal with it. Clare Edwards is his Amanda Beckett, so he sits down and nods, trying to be cool. "Alright, so, first question, are you a virgin?"

"What is this, some warped 20 questions?" He's on the defensive, because the girl is blunt and blowing o's like this is common conversation.

"Eli, I'm simply doing an evaluation. You should know of all people that Sigmund Freud was obsessed with sex, this is merely the first question he would've asked," she puts the book on the table rather than her lap, and looks him in the eye. He shivers, because fuck, they're blue, and nods.

"Do you agree with everything Freud says?"

"No of course not, but I'd be a horrible student to state otherwise in a paper dedicated to him," she shrugs. "You nodded, is that a 'yes' as in you are a virgin?" She smiles at the blush on this shit's cheeks, and he fucking hates himself.

"Whatever, yeah, next."

"Nothing to be ashamed, you know, I would've been one too," she's fucking smiling all genuine and shit and he doesn't even bother to know what that even means. He's scum, you already know that.

"Yeah, okay. Next."

The girl smiles, hookah pen hitting her teeth in a way that made her seem devious, and after closing her mouth around it and taking a deep breath, all with this shit fucking zeroed in on her mouth, this fucking angel puffs out the smoke in clear O's. "It is my survey, Goldilocks," she does it again, fuck, man she's cool. "I hope you don't mind, I'm stuck in the oral stage of psychosexuality, I always need something in my mouth," Clare laughs, this piece of shit dealing with keeping all his fucking emotions and hormones in check. So, whatever, he's semi hard, but no one can fucking blame him. It's Clare god damn Edwards.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," he chokes out.

"Don't worry that head of yours, pal. But, if you're a virgin, does that mean the first time you've ever eaten pussy is on Saturday?" Clare Edwards smiles, fuck, she's conniving and she fucking knows it, but he can see through the smoke and mirrors, he thinks. He at least hopes.

"Yeah, but, fuck, it's not like it's my first time kissing someone. I fingered Imogen Moreno last semester around the time of the school play, but now she's dating Fiona Coyne," he rambled, that fucker, basically telling the girl of his dreams he turns girls gay on the regular with his horrible sex skills. He looks up at her reaction, she looks up at him and he feels insignificantly smaller. Something about the little Edwards made people feel small, not height wise because the girl was so tiny, but she had an attitude and ambition that could divide and conquer with her lying down.

"If Fiona Coyne is anything like her brother, it's not so much that you were bad at fingering her, but Fiona was just much better," Clare emphasized and rolled her eyes, and fuck, did Declan Coyne touch her? Life isn't fucking fair, he already knows he's out of his league, but knowing past conquests of hers makes him sick. Eli's nothing like Declan Coyne, god damn it.

"Cool," he murmured, feeling small as fuck but for different reasons, also, his dick was still semi hard and he wanted to touch Clare again but the chances of that were slim as fuck. "Do you even have any more questions?"

Clare smiled like she had some sort of huge secret, taking another hit of her hookah pen before switching it off and putting it behind her ear. "Honestly? No, I wanted to hear all about your sexual past. And I also wanted to let you know that Adam invited me over for a movie night and we're watching my favorite movie."

God, god, what the fuck? Was this Clare Edwards inviting him somewhere? Fuck, what the actual fuck. "Uh, The Virgin Suicides?" Adam told him once the Clare could quote that movie all day, and it made him think that this girl was special. Who's favorite movie is The Virgin Suicides?

"You've done some research, I see," she laughed, this curly haired girl who had him fucking seeing stars. God, he can't even reprimand himself for saying the movie out loud because she's laughing and prolonging leaving. All he can think is that maybe tonight she'll reach under some blankets and stroke him or pull him into the bathroom because he's fucked up and horny and pretty much in love with her.

"Yeah," he reaches to itch his neck because he can feel a blush rising and the girl winks. Clare Edwards fucking winks at this shit and he feels bigger, fuck, he feels something and he's like eighty percent sure it's not just his fucking hard on for her.

"See you, Goldy," Clare runs a hand through her curls and presses her book to her chest, standing up and letting her skirt flow down to the tops of her knees again.

"Uh, see you too, Clare!" He calls after her, but he remains seating because he wasn't joking about that boner. Eli's kind of screwed at this point.

* * *

It's 9 P.M. and Adam's sitting on the couch watching some weird anime that Eli would usually be into, but instead he just keeps wiping his palms on the couch any time he feels them get somewhat sweaty.

"Dude, relax, she's coming, she's always late," Adam looks bored, but he's intensely watching that fucking anime and Eli knows the kid is bored with him.

"Should I get snacks while she's out?"

"Fucking calm down, Clare brings her own Swedish Fish and wears her fucking pajamas. I know you've got the feelings boner for her but can you calm it down for literally one night? I'm not trying to put too much pressure on you but don't fucking blow this one time of you guys hanging out," Adam rolls his eyes and he's not looking at this shit but he knows that he's busy being nervous and pathetic. Clare Edwards has known Adam since grade 9, when they would meet in group therapy. The two got along so well, despite their differences, but Adam gets Clare, and it's because he knows all these dumb things about her, just like how she knows the dumb things about him. She's never slipped up on pronouns, never brought up Gracie unless he did first. They started having movie nights and at first Clare pretended to be his girlfriend to impress his mom, and that's how Adam knew she was a true friend. He fucking hopes that Eli doesn't get choked up and turns the choice of movie into a fucking sign, but the kid is always over thinking, he has a problem.

So when, 20 minutes later, Clare Edwards strolls in the back door in a hockey jersey and leggings, holding Swedish Fish and sits beside Adam rather than Eli, the kid knows his friend is going to read into this more than he fucking should.

"Clare, you should sit near Eli, he's never had an annoying cretin quote a movie to him," he jokes, bumping her shoulder with his. He's being a friend right now, and Eli is giving him that look of 'I'm such shit, thank you' that he usually gives in situations involving mention of Clare Edwards. Clare narrows her eyes and moves away slowly, sits in the corner of the couch Eli is sitting on and sits just so her feet rest on his lap. She's challenging Adam, who doesn't give, so she moves so it looks like she was using his legs as an anchor to move her closer.

"Cretin me all you want, pup, but I think having a girl whisper quotes in your ear is much sexier than no girl whispering anything to you at all," Clare thinks she's got him a checkmate, so Adam laughs.

"Banter is not your strongest suit doll; you're still not sitting near me," Adam points to where she is sitting, and she pouts.

"Fine, I'll share the fishies with Eli," Clare smiles, devious all of the sudden and Adam resists the urge to groan because Eli looks like he's gone through a wash cycle, bright and new.

* * *

He's a piece of shit, but Clare is bumping against him and telling him all of Lux's parts. She bites Swedish Fish and sticks her tongue out at him when it's dyed red. There's a side to Clare Edwards that Eli didn't picture; innocent. Obviously not really, but there's this childish side to her that includes her eating candy and quoting movies, and he always saw her as this two dimensional enigma. The girl is complex, and he's fucking confused. She's touched his forearm like 43 times tonight and her fingers have stung his skin each time he's had to keep count. He wants to know all her secrets, Eli thinks, he wants to unlock her from the cage she keeps herself in at school. That's what that has to be, a cage. She's so genuine with Adam and sweet, it's hard to imagine the two girls are actually one.

It's the end of the movie and somehow he didn't notice the girl he's so obsessed with unlocking crying beside him. She's laughing and smiling but her eyes are red and irritated and teary, man, fucking teary.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, not trying to call attention to the girl's tears.

"Dude, she cries every time we watch this," and if it wasn't for Adam, Eli would've forgotten they were even watching a movie.

"It's nothing, Goldilocks," she sniffles, but the nickname is so funny to Adam he cackles, making Clare laugh. "Honestly, the movie is really good, right?"

"Yeah, really good," and somehow Eli is fucking angry the girl is talking about a movie when she should be talking about the fact that he ate her out and she stole all his weed but she says nothing and he just sits there like an idiot.

"Well… I have weed so what do you say we steal Drew's bong and rip it outside?" She pulls out a familiar, yet dwindling bag of pot and Eli is angry for a minute before understand the power dynamic between the two of them will always be her in charge. Adam's nodding enthusiastically and Eli feels nauseous because he's running upstairs, leaving Eli and Clare alone in his house, on his couch.

"That's my pot," he says, but he doesn't fucking care. God, he just wants to kiss her, or her to kiss him.

"What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine, pal," she laughs, and she fucking makes eye contact with him. Bright, blue, honest eyes and he's fucking okay with surrendering the drugs.

"Fine," he mutters. Eli is not proud of himself, there's really no dignity being lost.

"C'mon, Eli, not even a little banter?" She pouts, moving close to him, and fuck it, he should just kiss her. She's so close to him, her lips look so fucking nice, he hates himself for liking how she smells but he can't help but close his eyes.

"Clare," Eli's voice sounds like he just woke up from hibernation, and he opens his eyes to see the girl he's so fucking infatuated with looking at him, his mouth in particular, like some sort of math problem. God damn it he just wants to kiss her, it's all he can think about with this proximity between the two of them.

"Guys, look what I have!" Adam runs out to the patio and Clare has already moved what feels like millions of feet away from him, hugging the kid and kissing his brother's bong.

"A true hero," she says in a southern drawl, eyes fluttering. The curly haired girl backs away from him, pulling the weed she had once in her pockets out of her bra. When the fuck did she even put it away? None of this makes sense and Eli's head is spinning he just wants Clare so badly at this point, it sucks, straight sucks.

"Yeah, yeah, little Miss, fucking pack," Adam laughs handing her the bong and watching as she moves to sit on the ground. The boys follow, but just as they commit to sitting down, she giggles and falls into Eli's lap.

"I'm not sitting on the ground, it's cold!" She's laughing kind of hysterically but Eli can't think. She's moving against him, subtly, and he wraps his arms so they can graze her legs. He feels gross, taking advantage of her position, but she had to this on fucking purpose. The piece of shit can clearly see Adam's reaction, which is something he can't think about decoding right now. The girl begins to pack the small bowl of the bong and hums something kind of nice.

"What's that?"

"A song," she jokes, ripping and inspecting the leaves to make sure all the stems are nonexistent. " What's everyone's favorite band?" She looks up, curls falling in Eli's mouth, so he has to move his hands from her legs to pull them out.

Adam speaks first, "Handguns? Probably, yeah, Handguns."

So Eli wants to do something cool, like whisper in her ear, but he's a fucking pussy and she's way too cool to be phased by something like that. He ends up putting his chin on her shoulder, an action that she doesn't remove herself from, which makes him smile brightly. Small victory. "I don't know, old Escape the Fate? Or maybe Pierce the Veil."

"Gay," Clare laughs and rests the back of her head on the shit's shoulder for a few moments before leaning back over to finish packing.

"What's your favorite band, then?"

"Foals, maybe, or Brand New. But I listen to a lot, I feel," she shrugs, screwing the small bowl to the bong. "Lighter?"

Eli moves to his pocket instinctually before realizing the girl is sitting on him, he hears her laugh and watches as she raises herself off him momentarily, hand snaking behind her and into his pocket, fishing out the small BIC. She brings the bong to her lips and starts a steady inhale while she lights it, her finger on the choke, and waits until the white, full smoke builds up, letting go of the choke and inhaling as much smoke as she can, as fast as she can. Clare passes it to the younger Torres, turning around in Eli's lap. Hand moving to his chin, the curly haired girl waits until he opens his mouth to exhale the smoke into his mouth. He wants to shake, there's a moment of loss before he exhales it back out because he's completely out of it. That has to be flirting, right? He's not wrong, Eli, for the first time in a long time is completely convinced he's fucking right. A large victory.

So, when it's Eli's turn to take a hit, he does so, but instead of a smooth inhale and exhale, the shit inhales so much that he coughs. Clare laughs, and he feels the impulse to bring his free hand to her ribs to feel what it feels like when she laughs. He stills his hand but he's baked, he feels it within minutes of passing the bong to the small girl on his lap.

"Brand New?"

"Brand New, yeah, what about them?" She smiles at Eli, her eyes glazed and fucking beautiful; something about the red makes the blue pop. But he's baked, so don't take his word on that.

"Eli's just confused that they're your favorite band, is all," Adam chimes in, already preparing the weed for the next bowl, tearing and separating on the plastic bag, motioning with one hand for the girl to kill the bowl. She lights it, a little, but not as much, billows in the neck of the bong and she inhales, holding it in for a minute before passing the pipe to the kid. She grabs his chin and exhales, and Eli feels a sting of jealousy.

"Why would you be confused, Goldy? Haven't you ever heard of The Devil And God Are Raging Inside of Me? More importantly, Deja Entendu?"

"I've heard both, but I didn't think it was your style," he admits, feeling the girl stiffening in his lap.

"That's always the problem," she mutters, and something turns cold in Eli. He fucked up. Adam hits it and passes it to the girl, even though it should Eli's turn. He doesn't put up any fight. So, she's hitting it, and something is changing fast. Adam is too baked to notice, the kid is kind of a lightweight, but when the girl turns around in his lap, ready to exhale, both of the boys can see something different. Devious intentions. Her hand moves to his jaw, blue eyes glistening wildly, hazed but with some sort of glint that Eli doesn't know if it scares him or turns him on. Clare's index finger moves to his lips, and he has every intention of closing his eyes, but the girl moves his lip down, opening his mouth and exhaling. "Adam," she says, not turning around, "Mind if I kill it? It's my weed and Eli has to drive home, right Eli?"

Actually, he was planning on asking Adam if he could stay over, but something is happening and Eli isn't going to question it. "Uh, yeah, I do. Do you need a ride home?"

"Yeah, sure, that's good. Adam, can I sleep over tomorrow night instead?"

Adam, dazed but fucking coherent enough at least grasp the tension between the two of them, nods mutely and eyes Eli. When the curly haired girl turns to Eli, Adam motions that he's watching Eli and protective Adam is not someone the shit wants to mess with.

Clare takes another hit, but leaves the rest for Adam to kill. She crawls off Eli's lap and moves to whisper something in Adam's ear, hugging him and then standing up. The fucker has literally no idea what's going on, so don't ask.

* * *

They're parked outside her house, and Clare hasn't said a word or looked at Eli since leaving Adam's. It's not until she clicks her seatbelt off that the turd says something.

"Listen, I'm sorry for saying that I basically assume shit about you," he mutters, it's rushed and fuck, it's pathetic but he means it.

"Don't worry about it, kid, I know you like me too much to mean anything rude," she smiles, and it's the kind that sears into his skin.

"Okay… good," he says, gripping the steering wheel and looking ahead.

"Aren't you going to get out and open the door for me?" The angel bats her eyelashes and places a hand on the shit's arm, heat radiating from her palm and causing him to blush furiously. He's fucking infatuated.

"Uh, yeah, of course. Sorry, spaced out."

Clare Edwards has an agenda, he figures, because when he opens the door for her, she slips out, and slides her hand to his belt, pulling her to him. She smiles, kissing his jaw but keeping his eye contact until she moves up to his ear, sucking the skin behind his ear and letting it pop. "Do you know what they say about assuming, Eli Goldsworthy?" This angel, or maybe devil in disguise, moves her hand from his belt to his crotch, now biting the skin of his neck, without a doubt with the intent to leave a mark. "Something about making an ass out of yourself," she smiles, pulling away, and he's fucking breathless, dazed, and confused. He's high as fuck and he could very well be hallucinating but something about his raging erection tells him otherwise.

"Uh," he starts, but the small, seemingly uninterested girl slams against him, kissing him as hard as she can, sliding her tongue into his mouth with ease and he can't keep up. What the fuck is going on? "God damn it," Eli breathes when she pulls away, "You're driving me crazy, Edwards."

"I should," she smirks. Patting his crotch, she backs away, blowing him a kiss. "Night, Goldilocks."


End file.
